


the warmth in your eyes swept me into your arms

by hockeydyke



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: A thrilling cameo from Alex Ovechkin, Anxiety Disorder, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Ice Skating, M/M, Montreal, Past Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-09
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-09-17 05:08:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9306668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hockeydyke/pseuds/hockeydyke
Summary: "Bitty finishes tucking his gloves into the sleeves of his coat. “I skate on the pond every year with y’all. I know how skating outside works.”“Yes, but the lake is bigger. The depth of the ice is less, ah, consistent?” Jack steps out onto the ice, feeling the sharp sting of the bitter cold breeze on his cheeks. He feels extra alive. “So be careful. Only stay in the area I’ve measured and we should be good.”“Okay, okay, Mr. Zimmermann. Any other instructions?” Bitty steps onto the ice and laughs as the wind whips his scarf into his face.“Mmhmm. Catch me.” He tags Bitty on the arm and then skates away as fast as he can, laughing as Bitty squeals and skates harder than ever to catch up."(Jack and Bitty visit Jack's parents in Montreal. An updated version of the original I posted over the winter)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Winter Winds by Mumford & Sons.
> 
> Check Please and related characters belong to Ngozi.

Jack’s positive that there’s no way this trip can go poorly. After all, he’s planned it out to excess-- not just making a schedule of what meals they’ll get and where they’ll visit each day, but also going as far as to plan which radio station he’ll play in the car when they’re driving into Montreal during the day (country music, because he knows Bitty will chirp him for it).

 

And his schedule does in fact go without a hitch for the first two days. Jack plays his home game against Washington Thursday night; Falconers lose 5-4 in overtime. It’s close, but Ovechkin manages to score with two minutes left on the clock, and Jack has to admit that he’s impressed. The loss hurts him in a way that he still isn’t used to, but he’s still looking forward to talking to Ovi during the all star game. But that’s besides the point-- he loses the game, he sees Bitty afterward and can barely keep from wrapping his arms around Bitty and holding him tight. He compromises by giving him a quick bro-hug. Easy. He wants more.

 

He finishes with post-game media talk and drives with Bitty to the airport, and thankfully their flight isn’t delayed. They land in Montreal around midnight and Bob and Alicia pick them up from the airport. Bitty is, of course, on his best Southern boy behavior, all “yes sir!” and “no thank you, ma’am!” for Jack’s parents. They’re charmed by this, of course. Everything is good, and even though Bob teases them about sharing a room (“now, Alicia and I will be on the other side of the house, so don’t feel bad about keeping us up!” “DAD!”), everything is in good humor.

 

On Friday they go into the city. Jack’s plans go mostly on track: they walk around for a bit, just sightseeing, then spend some time roaming the underground city because it’s cold enough that their fingertips are getting numb from being outside. They try all sorts of food and Bitty embarrases himself trying to speak French while he orders at the restaurant they choose for dinner. He means to ask for soup but gets his words mixed up and asks for a cell phone instead. When the waiter stares at him, totally lost, Bitty looks across the table to see Jack chuckling silently, eyes down.

 

“Don’t laugh at me!” Bitty says, although he’s smiling too. “What did I say? Lord, it wasn’t too bad, was it?”

 

“No, it wasn’t. It was sweet, I swear.” Jack smiles at the waiter and orders for Bitty instead. “There. We’ll have to practice more often. I need to work on being a better teacher.

 

“Shush, you’re the best teacher I could ask for. Okay, let’s look at the drink menu-- I can order wine, here, right?”

 

And Bitty gets a little tipsy on very expensive wine and Jack stays sober so he can drive them home. Bitty falls asleep during the half-hour drive out of the city and Jack struggles to keep from turning to watch him peacefully dozing in the passenger seat, leaning against the cool glass of the window, drooling just the tiniest bit. He glances over whenever he hits a pothole to make sure Bitty doesn’t wake up, but other than that, he tries to keep his eyes on the road. He doesn’t want to get in an accident, after all. He already feels guilty enough about every time he’s ever checked Bitty, and every call he’s made in games that led to Bitty getting checked by others.

 

But that’s all in the past. They get home late, but Bob and Alicia are still awake when Jack steps into the house with an armful of Eric Bittle. Thank god for professional athlete muscle-- not that Bitty is heavy at all. In fact, he’s light enough that is scares Jack how easy it is to lift him sometimes. But it’s definitely useful at times like now, when he’s able to cradle Bitty against himself with one arm and lift the other in a shushing motion to his mouth when Bob stands to greet him.

 

“Oh. Sleeping,” Bob says, when he realizes why Jack’s shushing him.

 

Jack’s not sure what the warm smiles his parents are both giving him mean, but they’re making him blush. “I’m going to bring him to bed. He’s had a lot of wine.”

 

“Do you want me to bring in some aspirin and water for him for tomorrow morning?” Alicia asks, brushing past Bob on her way to the kitchen. He moves out of her way without even thinking, and the way they move around each other, coordinated perfectly, reminds Jack of figure skating pairs. They make it seem easy, like they were born to be around each other, but Jack knows it’s from years and years of companionship.

 

 _I love you guys,_ he thinks about saying. Instead, he answers, in hushed tones to keep from waking Bitty, “That would be great, thanks. Are you two going to be here tomorrow?”

 

“We’re going to lunch with Uncle Mario and Nathalie, but we’ll be back after that. Do you have plans?” She fills a glass of water and follows Jack upstairs, Bob calling out a “Bonne nuit!” as they walk up.

 

“I think I’m going to take him skating on the lake.” Jack enters his room and gently deposits Bitty on the bed, smiling as Bitty curls up tight around Señor Bun and mumbles in his sleep. He pulls the blankets up around Bitty and then waits in the doorway.

 

Alicia re-emerges from where she’s disappeared in her and Bob’s room a moment later, holding a few aspirins and the glass. Jack wonders, for a brief second, if his parents still keep all medications in their room because they don’t trust him, because they’re scared, or just out of habit.

 

“It hasn’t been very cold this winter. Be careful.”

 

“I will. I’ve skated there my whole life. I know how to tell when the ice isn’t thick enough.”

 

Alicia smiles, soft. She’s still beautiful, and the deep smile lines on her face make her even more so. “I know, I know. Just humor me.”

 

“Mmhmm.” He kisses his mother’s cheek. “Goodnight.”

 

“Goodnight, Jack.”

 

She leaves the room and Jack closes the door slowly, doing his best to not make any noise. He slips out of his jeans and coat, takes off his shoes, and then carefully removes Bitty’s as well. When all that is done, he slips into bed with Bitty, whispering a goodnight to him as well.

 

Alicia goes back downstairs and sits back down on the couch with Bob, laughing at his exaggerated reaction when she presses her cold bare feet to his leg.

 

“Sheesh! You’re made of ice.” He tosses her one of the blankets draped over the arm of the couch. “So, when do you think Jack’s going to propose?”

 

“Bobby!” Alicia swats at his shoulder, gently. “Eric’s not even graduated yet. It’s way too early for that.

 

Bob grinned, leaning against her. “Is it? Jack’s pretty head-over-heels.”

 

“Yes, but he’s definitely going to wait until Eric moves in with him.”

 

“So this time next year, maybe?” He grabs the remote to unpause their movie.

 

“God, I hope so. I already have wedding ideas.”

 

\\_ . _/

 

Jack wakes Bitty up a little before 9 on Saturday. He knows it’s earlier than Bitty likes to wake up on a weekend, but he’s already spent his morning running on the treadmill and making breakfast and trying to make peace with his parents’ cat, and he’s getting impatient. Anyway, they are on a schedule-- he has practice with the team in the afternoon, and he wants to be well-prepared for their game against the Habs tomorrow.

 

Thankfully, he has the offer of warm breakfast to entice Bitty with. He’s not nearly as good in the kitchen as Bitty is, of course, but he’s learned some things from living alone, so he manages to prepare pancakes and fruit and coffee for his sleepy boyfriend, who is thankfully not hungover.

 

By 10 they’re lacing up their skates on the edge of the lake. Jack’s tested it already-- 4 inches, which is thinner than he’d like, but should be enough to hold both of them with no problem.

 

“I remember being able to skate here so much more when I was a kid,” he muses, while Bitty opens a package of hand warmers.

 

“Global warming, maybe.” He slides them into his gloves. 20 degrees fahrenheit is fairly manageable for Jack, but Bitty claims that’s because his blood is thicker because he’s used to it. Jack’s pretty sure that’s not how medical science works, but really, he’s not an expert.

 

“Maybe. Come on, you’ll be warmer once you get moving.”

 

“Goodness, you talk like I’ve never been skating before.” Bitty finishes tucking his gloves into the sleeves of his coat. “I skate on the pond every year with y’all. I know how skating outside works.”

 

“Yes, but the lake is bigger. The depth of the ice is less, ah, consistent?” Jack steps out onto the ice, feeling the sharp sting of the bitter cold breeze on his cheeks. He feels extra alive. “So be careful. Only stay in the area I’ve measured and we should be good.”

 

“Okay, okay, Mr. Zimmermann. Any other instructions?” Bitty steps onto the ice and laughs as the wind whips his scarf into his face.

“Mmhmm. Catch me.” He tags Bitty on the arm and then skates away as fast as he can, laughing as Bitty squeals and skates harder than ever to catch up.

 

They mess around for a bit, chasing each other breathless and occasionally skidding on a rough patch and sprawling out. It’s nice to skate just for fun, especially when things are getting intense this point in the season with the Falconers. They’re moving up in their division rankings, vying for a spot in the playoffs and Jack thinks they really do have a good chance this year. But he’s not thinking about that right now. Instead, he’s having a nice time with his boyfriend.

 

His boyfriend, who has abandoned their game of tag and is now attempting to teach Jack the finer points of figure skating. Jack is fully capable of spinning, although not very fast, and it doesn’t look nearly as good as when Bitty does it. Today, however, bitty is trying to teach Jack some sort of spinny jump thing that he can’t get the hang of.

 

“In my defense,” Jack insists, “I’m not wearing figure skates. I hear the toe pick makes this easier."

 

“ _Please,_ ” Bitty says, rolling his eyes. “I’m skating just fine in my hockey skates. You’re just struggling because you don’t have the coordination down yet.”

 

“Oh, I don’t have coordination?” Jack raises an eyebrow and skates closer to Bitty, looping his arms around his waist. “And here I thought I was third in the league for goals. I guess I was wrong. No coordination for me.” He kisses Bitty’s forehead.

 

“Shush, you. Here, I’ll show you how it’s done. You just sit your giant ass down and watch, okay?”

 

“My giant-- okay!” Jack laughs and sits down as Bitty says.

 

Bitty skates a few yards away and starts a routine. Jack’s pretty sure he’s seen this one before, but it never fails to impress him. Bitty flies through the air and makes it all look so _easy_. He’s the embodiment of light and energy when he’s like this, Jack thinks, shocking himself with how poetic his thoughts sound. Maybe he’ll have to talk to Lardo about this, or Nursey. They’re better at understanding art than he is, and he’s pretty sure Bitty is a work of art. He’s fluid and rhythmic and--

 

He’s also, for all his times skating on the pond at Samwell, inexperienced at skating outside. Jack was right when he told his mother that he knows how to tell when the ice isn’t thick enough, but Bitty doesn’t have the decades of experience that Jack has on the ice. He doesn’t know how to recognize subtle changes in texture and color, and he doesn’t know which parts of the lake to avoid.

 

But he does know what the loud crack means when he lands one of his jumps, and he has just enough time to yell, “JACK!” before it cracks completely and he falls through.

 

One second, he’s watching Bitty skate. The next, Bitty’s gone. It would be kind of funny, if it didn’t mean that Bitty is now struggling for his life in freezing water that’ll kill him if he doesn’t get out soon. Jack is completely frozen for a second, and he’s not sure why. He just can’t process what’s going on. Everything is quiet, although he can feel the blood rushing in his ears. Does that make any sense? He can hear his heartbeat, too. And his gaspy breaths. Oh. Oh-- he’s panicking.

 

Then, he can hear Bitty screaming, and this jerks him out it enough to skate toward Bitty, forcing himself not to go too fast, carefully testing the ice nearby. He’s trying to remember everything his dad ever taught him about saving someone if the ice cracked, but it seems like that information has fled to some far-flung part of his mind, so instead he sprawls on his stomach on the ice near the part where Bitty’s broken through, hoping that spreading his weight well help.

 

Bitty is still screaming. He can swim, sure, but it’s a bit of a struggle when he’s wearing heavy winter clothes and has metal strapped to his feet. Also, he’s panicking too, which doesn’t seem to help the matter much.

 

“Bits, come on, grab my hands.” Jack holds them out along the clean break of the ice, over the water. “Eric! My hands!”

 

Finally, Bitty manages to grab onto Jack’s wrists, and Jack almost flinches at how cold they are as he hauls Bitty up out of the water, swearing under his breath. Bitty flails for another few moments, as Jack tugs him across the ice to the thicker area where they were before, like he hasn’t quite realized that he’s safe now. Then, he goes still, looking up at the sky.

 

“You okay, Bits?” Jack asks, collapsing onto the ice next to him. He wants to get off the ice, now. He doesn’t feel good about it anymore and he wants to go in.

 

Bitty is slow to answer. Finally, quietly: “Cold.”

 

Jack looks at him closely. He’s pale, and quiet, and breathing kind of funny, and-- shouldn’t he be shivering?

 

Jack’s no idiot. He’s from Montreal. He recognizes the symptoms of hypothermia when he sees them. “Shit! Okay, we’re going inside right now.” He manhandles Bitty to his feet, half carrying, half shoving him off the ice. Once they’re off he unlaces his skates and kicks them off faster than he ever has before. He leaves them on the shore of the lake and shoves his feet into his boots, not bothering to tie their laces. He leaves Bitty’s skates on-- no point in taking the time to get them off when he can just carry Bitty back to the house.

 

And so he does. He sprints with Bitty in his arms, which is quite a feat in the knee-high snow, and makes it back to the house in record time. Once he skids inside and shuts the door behind them, he has a brief moment of relief. They’re inside-- they’re safe now.

 

Then he realizes that Bitty hasn’t said a word. That is very, very strange for Bitty, and something he’d chirp him for if he wasn’t so damn worried.

 

“Hey, Bits, how’re you feeling?”

 

No answer. Bitty is awake, but his eyes close every few seconds and he’s limp in Jack’s arms, like he’s just on the verge of falling asleep but not quite there yet. His skin is clammy in a way that doesn’t feel natural and his clothes are soaked through. Jack’s are too, by now, and he’s starting to feel the chill deep in his bones.

“Okay. Okay, okay okay. Bitty, I swear to god, you need to stay awake.”

 

“Mmhmm.” Bitty mumbles. He’s slightly coherent, at least. Thank god.

 

Jack gingerly sets him down on the living room floor and begins to unlace his skates. The wet laces resist all his efforts to unknot them, and after a minute he gives a frustrated groan and dashes back into the kitchen to retrieve a pair of scissors. When he returns he slices right through the laces-- damn it all. He’ll replace them later. He’ll buy Bitty laces in any color he ever wants, forever. Once they’re gone he tears off the skates and tosses them to the other side of the room. Then he sets on tearing of Bitty’s clothes, the wet fabric chafing at his already cold skin. It seems like it takes forever, but eventually he has a naked Eric Bittle in front of him.

 

Bitty doesn’t seem to understand what’s going on, and that worries him. He’s sitting upright, but swaying slightly, like he doesn’t have the energy to hold himself up. “Stay put, okay?” Jack kisses his ice-cold forehead and sprints up the stairs. A minute later, he returns with a few large towels, a dry pair of boxers, and pajama bottoms. He towels Bitty off, which elicits a laugh from him.

 

“I can dry myself off,” he says, a little slurred, although he can’t seem to coordinate his hands around the towel, dropping it whenever he tries to grab it from Jack.

 

“Your hands are numb. Let me do it for you,” Jack says, and that quiets Bitty for another few minutes. Once he’s sufficiently dried, Jack helps him into the boxers and pants.

 

He steps back to survey his work. Bitty still looks drowsy, but his cheeks have a bright pink flush to them, meaning he’s finally warming up. Crisis averted, maybe. Hopefully.

 

“I’m going to turn up the heat and make some hot chocolate, okay? I’ll be right in the kitchen. Yell if you need me.” He leaves Bitty with Netflix on and leaves the room, worried about leaving him alone but not knowing anything else to do at this point.

 

On his way to the kitchen he cranks the thermostat up to 80. He’s not worried about the heating bill-- Bad Bob Zimmermann is good for it. Once he’s in the kitchen, he takes out a kettle and fills it with water, then stares at it for a minute before a new wave of panic washes over him.

He almost killed Bitty. No-- not him directly, but he’s the one who brought Bitty out on the pond in the first place. Is that normal, to feel like you’re constantly ruining your boyfriend’s life? First the way he’d treated him his entire freshman year, then the concussion, then forcing him back into the closet because of the damn NHL--

 

He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe, he can’t _fucking breathe._

 

Somehow, the part of his brain that’s desperate for survival manages to take out his phone and dial one of the only numbers he has memorized.

 

Shitty answers after the first ring. “Hey! Look who finally decided to call! What’s up, Jacky, you absolute fucking beaut?”

 

Jack takes a deep, shuddery breath. “Bitty fell through the ice on the lake,” he stutters out. “He’s-- he’s not great, but I don’t think I need to bring him to the hospital. Fuck. I don’t know.”

 

“Okay. You’re def panicking, bro. Hold on.” Shitty may be making an effort to cover his phone with his hand, but his shout is loud enough that Jack can hear it perfectly. “HEY, LARDS! BITTY ALMOST MCFREAKIN’ DIED!”

 

Jack hears the pattering of feet on the other end of the line, then Lardo’s voice. “You exaggerating, or is that real?”

 

Shitty explains the situation to her, and Jack is glad that he did so, because he doesn’t think he could tell the whole thing again right now. When he’s done, Shitty asks her to google hypothermia symptoms and treatment while he talks to Jack.

 

“I--”

 

Shitty interrupts before he can get any further. “You’re about to come up with some far-fetched way to blame this on yourself, right?”

 

“Well, I--”

“And it’s gonna stem from the other things you feel guilty about, but you’re going to use all that to rationalize some idea that you’re not good for Bitty. And, like, your feelings are valid, but that’s total bullshit, yeah?”

 

Something about talking to Shitty calms Jack down, and he goes back to warming the water for hot chocolate. “I hate how well you know me.”

 

“Yeah, I love you to, bro.” There’s some more conversation on his end of the line, then: “Lards says that he’s probably good without a hospital, as long as he keeps warming up and doesn’t go berserk or something.”

 

“That’s a relief, I guess.”

 

“Are you still wearing wet clothes?” Shitty says, but he sounds like he already knows the answer.

 

“...Yes?”

 

“Christ, go get changed. You won’t be able to take care of him if you’re also mcfreakin’ dead.”

 

“Thanks, Shits.”

 

“That’s what I’m here for. Friendship, legal and medical advice, platonic blowj--”

 

“Okay, okay! I get the idea. I’ll call you back when there’s no medical emergency, okay?”

 

“Yeah, you’d better, Zimmermann. Love you.”

 

It’s gotten to the point in their friendship where the statement no longer causes Jack to clam up. “Love you too.”

 

He hangs up and steps upstairs to change quickly, then returns to the living room with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate and is surprised to find Bitty attempting to remove his pants. “Bits? Why are you stripping?”

 

“Off,” Bitty says, slightly less verbose than usual. “Cold.”

 

“No, those are dry pants. Keep them on.” Jack sets the mugs down on the coffee table and tugs the waistband of Bitty’s pants back up.

 

“Ugh.” Bitty sighs, exasperated, and wraps his arms around Jack. “I’m tired.”

 

“You’re freezing and you might have pretty severe hypothermia, and I was kind of worried about you going into shock for a few minutes.” Jack leans close to Bitty, hoping that body heat would help matters some.

 

“I don’t care. I’m tired.” His voice has a grumpy edge to it, the same sassy, sweet-masking-sour tone he gets when he talks about store-bought pie and Kent Parson.

 

Jack chuckles at the tone. “You don’t care because you’re all loopy from your brain freezing.”

 

Bitty yawns and rests his head on Jack’s chest. “Canada--” he’s cut off by another yawn. “Canada tried to kill me.”

 

“Mmhmm. Let’s stick to indoor rinks for a bit, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Bitty’s eyes close and Jack is sorry that he has to shake him awake, since he’ll be even grumpier when he does. But he doesn’t feel safe letting him fall asleep just yet, so it looks like he’ll be supervising Bitty for the next few hours at least. He lets Bitty take control of Netflix and settles down, holding him tight.

 

He doesn’t account for how exhausted he is from all the stress.

 

When Bob and Alicia return from lunch they’re surprised to see clothes and skates strewn across the living room, the floor still wet, and their son and his boyfriend nestled together on the couch, both sound asleep.

 

They look at each other, and then tiptoe to other parts of the house. They’ll let the boys sleep a little longer. It looks like they’ve had a long day.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Special thanks to my pal KT for all the support and input while I was writing this.  
> I hope my brief Washington Capitals mention was appreciated. What can I say, I love those boys.  
> Find me on hockey tumblr as @hockeydyke, or at my personal blog @egaliteoulamort. Feel free to send me prompts on either!  
> Comments are loved and appreciated <3


End file.
